


silent

by missMARGARITAschuyler (blasphemyincarnate)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gentle, Healing, Kidnapping, Lams - Freeform, Love, M/M, Oneshot, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 08:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasphemyincarnate/pseuds/missMARGARITAschuyler
Summary: silence is the loudest scream-or in which John goes missing and shows up on Alexander’s doorstep five months later





	silent

     Alexander sighed and rubbed his forehead, leaning back in his chair. It was hard to focus on his work - John was still missing. Going on five months now. He'd disappeared from the apartment without a trace. The police suspected foul play. His own suspicions weren't much different.  
     A chime from his phone. A text from Martha, John's sister. She asked him the same question every day - he had the same answer every day.

  
**Martha - > Alexander**  
_Any news?_  
**Alexander - > Martha**  
_No, sorry._

  
     It hurt. A lot. Disappointing Martha. Watching his friends slowly give up. Missing John.  
_No matter, Alexander. You have work. The police have it covered. They'll update you when there's news. Do your work._ He didn't.  
     "Fuck it," he muttered to himself, standing up and grabbing his jacket. _Work's not getting done and I could use a drink._  
~  
     Exactly a week later, Alexander found himself in the exact same predicament. The only difference this time - there was a sharp knock on the door instead of a chime from his phone. _Who? I'm not expecting anyone, am I?_ He wouldn't put it past himself to forget if someone said they were coming over. Sighing, he got up and slowly pulled open the door.  
     A shivering, dirty boy who wouldn't meet his eye. A short Asian woman with a concerned look on her face.  
     Curly hair. Freckled arms.  
     “John.” Alexander’s feet moved on their own, hands on John’s arms. He repeated his name in a whisper, almost not believing the sight in front of him. The brunette slowly moved to sit on the couch while Alexander crouched in front of him, concern obvious.  
     “You know each other? Good,” the woman said after a moment. “Can I talk to you really quick?”  
     “Me?”  
     “Yeah, uh, it’s kind of important,” she said slowly, watching them. Alexander got up and walked over to her, glancing over his shoulder at John.  
     “What is it?”  
     “I found him by the Canadian border. Didn’t say anything to me except asking me to take him here, in a too quiet whisper.” Her own voice dropped to a low and concerned tone. “You might want to take him to a therapist. My guess is some sort of trauma. Do you have any ideas?”  
     “No, not really. He went missing back in June, none of us have heard from him since then,” Alexander said slowly.  
     “Kidnapping, you think? Either way, take care. Be careful. Move slowly. Don’t startle him. We don’t know what happened and it’s best to play it safe for now, probably. Here’s my card if you need a therapist, I don’t charge a lot,” she said, handing him a light blue card.

**Diana Greene**  
**X - XXX - XXX - XXXX**  
**diana.greene@pixiedust.com**

     There was more, but he barely noticed it as he pocketed the card. “Thanks. I should probably check up on him now.”  
     “You do that. Maybe some food too, poor boy looks half-starved.”  
     “I- yeah, yeah. Thanks again, for everything. For bringing him back.”  
     “Of course. Make sure to take care of yourself too, alright? Don’t stress over anything too much - you’re no use to anyone if you’re panicking. Best of luck to you two,” she said softly, stepping out the door and pulling her hood up.  
     Alexander nodded and closed the door behind her, crouching in front of John again. He gently took the other boy’s limp hands, eyes staring imploringly at him. “What happened, John?”  
     Silence.  
     John shook his head.  
     “You don’t want to talk about it?” A slow nod. “That’s alright. Do you want to eat or take a shower first?”  
     John stood up, moving as if he wasn’t sure how to. He started to walk towards the bathroom. Alexander let him.

  
**Alexander - > viva la revolution (Martha, Lafayette, and six others)**  
_John’s safe, I think. I don’t know. He’s alive but something’s wrong._  
**Martha - > viva la revolution (Alexander, Lafayette, and six others)**  
_What do you mean something’s wrong? Is he injured?_  
**Alexander**  
_Not as far as I can see, but he’s not talking? At all?? The lady who brought him here said she suspected some sort of emotional trauma but idk_  
**Hercules**  
_Can we come over?_  
**Alexander**  
_Idk if that’s the best idea rn, maybe later?_  
**Lafayette**  
_Okay, tell us when_

  
     He sighed and stood up, heading for the kitchen. _I’ll put on some soup while he showers._  
~  
     Alexander figured out John’s new boundaries pretty early on. Hugs and cuddles were okay. Kisses weren’t. Yes or no questions were the easiest to get an answer to. Loud noises startled him.  
     It was worrisome, he admitted. But he kept saying no to a therapist. One of the few occasions where he would actually say something.  
     At least that ruled out traumatic muteness, which was a good sign. He could talk. Just didn’t want to.  
     Alexander woke up to crying a lot, nowadays. A sound woke him up. A shape curled on the floor. Quiet sobbing.  
     It was best not to touch him, he learned. He startled and flinched away if you did. It was best to talk in a low voice until he was ready to be comforted.  
     The next time it happened, something was different. Alexander didn’t wake up to just quiet crying - there were harsh whispers punctuating them.  
     “You’re fine. You’re fine.” Repeated over and over.  
     “Just like that, John,” Alexander said softly, slipping from the bed to kneel in front of him. “You’re okay now. Breathe. Repeat it to yourself.”  
     He stopped talking, but Alexander could hear his quiet murmuring.  
     “That’s right, Jack. Breathe and tell yourself that you are okay now.”  
     The episode went by lot faster that night.  
     The next time he talked was when he agreed to see a therapist.  
     “She can help you, John.”  
     “Okay, I’ll see a therapist.” It was a hoarse whisper, barely audible. But it was there.  
     A smile stretched across Alexander’s face.      
     The session went well. He agreed to continue them. He smiled a little more.  
     He reached for Alexander and brushed his lips against his that night.  
     Alexander couldn’t stop smiling.  
~  
     December 19th. A month after John came back. Alexander sat at his desk, working late. It was nearly one AM when his door swung open. “Alexander?” The whisper came. He spun around.  
     “Is something wrong, John?” He asked, standing up.  
     “No, I wanted to give you something,” he said in the same hoarse whisper as usual. He was still too quiet, too wary, to be the way he was before. But it was okay. He was healing, and that’s what mattered.  
     A sheet of paper was pressed into Alexander’s hand.  
     “A list of things I want to say but can’t,” he read. A confused glance at John. A nod as a reply.  
     His eyes flicked down the paper.  
     The first one-

**I’m sorry.**

     “You have nothing to be sorry for, John,” Alexander said gently, looking at him.  
     The brunette looked away and mumbled, “Keep going.”  
     Seven crossed out things. A messily scrawled word - also crossed out. Another five scratched out lines.  
     At the very bottom of the page

**I love you.**

  
     A slow and gentle smile. The paper was tucked into a drawer. Alexander stood up to face John.  
     A hand on his cheek. Deep blue-purple eyes looking up at him. A smile. “I love you too, John.”  
     A proper kiss.  
     Healing.  
     Silence.

 


End file.
